


A Voice Less Loud

by idlesuperstar



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [23]
Category: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar/pseuds/idlesuperstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo here, in his <i>home</i>, safe and close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Voice Less Loud

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about a week after the trio of [ _Wives and Revelations_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1032820), [_An Unexpected Find_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1052551) and [_An Unexpected Ending_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1068542): late November 1939.
> 
> Title from Robert Browning's [ _Meeting At Night_](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173022)
> 
> Series notes [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980)  
> 

Cursed, thought Clive mournfully. Bloody cursed, that’s what I am. Did the army employ nothing but lily-livered drivers? He’d become so used to Angela and her adventurous driving that these army sergeants could not measure up. The MTC put them all to shame. He peered out of the window at the evening gloom. Difficult to tell where they were, even without the blackout.

Still, at least he wasn’t up against the clock this time. In a hurry, yes, of course he was in a hurry. Eager to see Theo. He flushed a little at that. But then, why should he not be? Being out of England this past week had made their last meeting seem unreal. Fanciful thinking, true, but he wouldn’t be quite settled until he got home, saw Theo; really there, solid and real. God, they’d barely had a moment alone in the end. But the memory of Theo’s arms about him, of his hands strong across his back, on his arm; of the soft heat of his mouth; he’d replayed it over and over. The relief, the sheer sense of _rightness,_ however brief. He glanced out of the window again, saw the familiar bulk of Victoria looming. Nearly home! Oh, would Theo be there? He checked his watch. Nearly six. Angela had had her orders. He let himself picture it; Theo by the fire, comfortable in an armchair, smoking, a glass of sherry at hand, perhaps reading the newspaper. Glorious. Oh, but he must not get ahead of himself! Look at last time - what a muddle that had been. And anything could have happened. They could have been delayed. The roads in London were even worse these days, and the winter never helped. The car could have broken down. Or Theo might not have been at his digs. But it was no use. He could think of nothing but Theo at his fireside. He swallowed, trying to control his excitement. Oh! Finally, they were home. 

“Thank you, Sergeant,” he called, already half way out of the car. “Bring my bags, will you?” Murdoch already had the door open, as if he’d been listening out. 

“Evening, Murdoch.” He hung up his cap and allowed Murdoch to take his greatcoat. 

“Evening sir. How was the journey?” 

“Tedious. Long. Enough of that. Is - ” he paused, not wanting to tempt fate “ - everything all right, here?”

“Yes sir. All settled in.” Oh! Excitement bubbled up. Bless Murdoch. Occasionally he was a mind reader. “I’ve put him in the Green Room, General. I thought that would suit,” he said, helping Clive on with his smoking jacket. 

Wouldn’t it? Not the largest of the bedrooms, but it was the closest to Clive’s. Good that Murdoch hadn’t disturbed Barbara’s room. He eyed Murdoch speculatively, but his face gave nothing away.

“Good thinking, Murdoch. See to my bags will you?” 

“Certainly sir. Ah, he’s in the lounge, General.”

A thrill at that. Oh! Clive pushed open the door and there was Theo, sitting just as he’d imagined! The relief. 

“Theo! My dear chap! What a sight for sore eyes you are.”

“Hello Clive,” said Theo, making to get up. Clive waved him down again. Oh, the warmth in his voice. How much better he looked, even after a week. 

“All settled in?” asked Clive breezily, pouring himself a drink. He sat down opposite. Theo had - whether by instinct or luck - taken what Clive still thought of as Barbara’s chair. Oh, to have someone sitting there again. Not just someone. _Theo_. 

“Did I have any choice?” Theo asked dryly.

“Oh, now, look - ”

“Imagine my surprise, Clive,” Theo went on, “when your delightful driver arrived with her orders for me.”

“Oh, well, they weren’t orders, _per se -_ ” Clive blustered, looking away.

“Actually, you are correct, mein Freund. More of a _fait accompli_ I should say. I congratulate you on the thoroughness of your campaign.”

Clive looked up at him, abashed, but Theo was smiling. Teasing.

“Oh, you!” Clive spluttered, pleased. 

“It gives me great hope, General. If the whole British army can be as single minded in its purpose then Herr Hitler will be routed by Christmas.”

“Oh, I say! You’re not a - a country, to be reclaimed, Theo.” But oh! Clive blushed. Staking his claim on Theo. Yes. He could not deny it. 

“No. I am only one man,” Theo said quietly. He took two cigarettes from the box on the table beside him, and lit them both, before handing one to Clive. A flash of memory - Theo’s arm heavy across his shoulder, the crisp air of a spring day. The close dark of a narrow bed. He swallowed, and his fingers shook as they brushed Theo’s, taking the cigarette from him. He took a drag to steady himself. What were they talking about? Oh, Theo. Settling in.

“It was all terribly last minute,” Clive professed, “and I didn’t want to let you know until it was okayed. It was the only way,” he said earnestly. 

“Clive,” Theo was smiling again. “I understand. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Oh, don’t. You know it’s not necessary. It’s the - obvious solution. No need for thanks,” Clive said, dismissively.

“Very well, mein Freund. Tell me,” and Clive looked back at him, hearing the mischief in his voice “are you going to take in any more refugees? Miss Cannon was _most_ insistent on telling me that you have eighteen rooms.”

“Oh, hush, you!” Clive sat up to slap at Theo’s knee. Perhaps he’d gone a bit overboard briefing Angela, wanting to allay any suspicions. But - oh! How ridiculous this was, sitting here, all this time, not even touching. He paused, his hand still outstretched, and Theo sat forward, caught his hand between his own two, warm and strong. 

“Clive - ” and his voice was low, thrilling, his eyes dark and fond, “you know I would be nowhere else.” Clive nodded, heart swelling, put his cigarette down to clasp Theo’s hands in both of his.

“I know. I would have you nowhere else.” They sat for a moment, hands clasped, Clive’s heart overflowing. Theo’s dear face; Theo here, in his _home_ , safe and close. His strong hands, his dark eyes. Clive felt an echo of the past, and then - as if Theo did too - Theo was getting awkwardly to his feet, pulling Clive up by their linked hands, and suddenly embracing him, holding him tightly as though he might vanish. Clive felt with a thrill the broad sweep of his back, the firm line of his shoulder blades; he buried his head in Theo’s neck, the familiar smell of his skin underneath the unfamiliar hair oil and soap. Theo was breathing hot and unsteady into the close skin of Clive’s neck, and the years fell away, as if they were back on the veranda of the hospital, at the start of everything; warm and fierce and content and together, all the pieces of his life suddenly fitting again. God, he could stay here forever, Theo sure and firm and strong up against him. 

Not to be, of course. A  knock at the door - and when had Murdoch ever knocked? - and dinner being announced. 

Theo pulled away from him reluctantly, a rueful smile on his face.

“Do you remember, Clive?”

“Yes” Clive said, fondly, “that ruddy bell. How I cursed it. But - ” he cupped a hand to Theo’s cheek, stroked lightly with his thumb, “but it all ended well, eh?”

“Indeed, my friend.” Theo rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “We had best go in, though? You must be hungry.”

“Yes, I must be. Come along then.”

“One second. It has been a long week, thinking of this,” and Theo leaned in, breath soft on Clive’s cheek, and kissed him gently. Oh! Always familiar, Theo’s mouth on his. But always, always glorious. Clive kissed back, softly, restraining himself. They had all evening, after all! What a gift that was. All evening and all _night_. A thrill of anticipation ran through him. He broke the kiss before he forgot himself. Theo’s eyes were dark, as if he were thinking the same.

“Yes,” Clive managed, “a long week. Let’s get along or Murdoch will be on the warpath.” He offered his arm to Theo.

“I am not a girl, Clive. I believe I told you this once before.” he said, taking Clive’s arm nonetheless.

“I believe then that you recall my answer,” Clive shot back, opening the door. “It’s only your leg I’m thinking of.”

“Not the rest of me?” asked Theo, dryly.

“No.” Clive was firm. He was not a schoolboy. He could control himself for an hour. Theo laughed, happily, and patted Clive’s arm.

“Clive Candy, you are always the gentleman.” And he was always Clive Candy to Theo, as if the decades had not passed. That gave him a thrill of pleasure. 

“After _you,_ ” he said pointedly, as they reached the dining room door. But Theo would have none of it, and they entered in step, smiling, together. 

 

* * * * * *

 

The routine of dinner had settled them both into the old familiar ease. Clive could not talk about his work in detail, of course, but there had been plenty to discuss about the War in general. It was impossible to think now of that previous dinner’s awkwardness. Only a week ago! That was all in the past, now. Forgotten. 

How though, mused Clive as Murdoch brought in the coffee, how to take the next step? They’d never had this before - time, and easiness. He got up, selected a cigar for himself. Theo would continue with his cigarettes. Odd German habit, that. He sat down again, lighting his cigar, as Murdoch closed the door gently behind him. Oh this was lovely, this quiet harmony. But he was without a map, without co-ordinates. All the time they’d had before had been rushed, stolen moments, or fallen into. And any other - _liaisons_ \- he’d had, well, there had rarely been dinner and port beforehand. He laughed at that. Theo looked up questioningly.

“Oh, nothing. Foolish thoughts,” reassured Clive. Theo nodded, reached for the sugar cubes. About to turn his coffee into treacle again. Clive shuddered. But no. Instead, he dipped the sugar cube into his coffee rather as if it were a biscuit. Clive watched curiously as Theo soaked the cube, then brought it to his lips, sucked the coffee from it. Dear lord. Clive closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them Theo was repeating the action, then finally placing the remains of the cube delicately on his tongue, and sucking it like a sweet, eyes closed, a look of pleasure on his face. Clive was hot all over. Theo’s fingers would taste of coffee, and sugar. His lips would, his tongue would. He was reaching for another cube, repeating the process. Clive watched, entranced, too rapt to hide his gaze. Theo’s fingers, wet, on his lips. His soft pink tongue, the wanton pleasure on his face. _Christ_. Clive had seen that look before. 

He was out of his seat before he knew it, cigar forgotten, hauling Theo to his feet, kissing him, no holding back now, chasing the taste of the coffee and sugar on his lips. Theo kissed him back, his hand firm on Clive’s neck; oh, his lovely mouth, the wet heat of his tongue, the taste of the sugar. Clive broke the kiss, grabbed Theo’s wrist, brought Theo’s fingers to his own lips, sucked the taste of the coffee and sugar from them. Theo moaned, quietly, tightened his grasp on Clive’s neck as if he were struggling to stand. Clive could not stop, the taste now only Theo’s skin, the rough feel of his fingertips; Theo pressed up tight against him, chest and belly and thigh. Christ, he could not get enough, had to kiss Theo again, had to clutch at him with both hands; feel his hair still thick through his fingers, the faint ridge of the scar - _his mark_ \- the warm skin at his neck, the smell of him, the wild thump of his heart, the glorious wet heat of his mouth. Theo broke the kiss, breathing unsteadily, buried his head in Clive’s neck, pressed soft kisses to the hot skin there as if he could not stop. 

“Theo - ” Clive panted, heart pounding, “ - Christ - ” but he could not continue, not with Theo pressing kisses into his neck, his breath warm and fierce on Clive’s ear, murmuring low words in German. God, his voice! Clive was clutching at Theo, any part he could reach; his side, his back, the lovely swell of his backside. He pressed closer, impossibly close, wanting to burrow into him, to get to skin and sweat and nakedness. God, that mouth! Hot and wet on his ear, his jaw, his mouth; Theo kissing him desperately again. The brush of his moustache, the faint rasp of stubble. Christ! Clive felt the arousal singing through his blood, Theo surging up against him strong and fierce. What glory. God, let them have it all. He wanted Theo stripped, laid out, a feast. Oh! He could have it! He dragged himself away, felt his heart skitter again as Theo made a moan of protest. Took Theo’s face - oh god, his dear face - in his hands.

“Theo - ” he managed.

“Wass?” Theo asked. God, look at him! Flushed and dishevelled. Beautiful. 

“Come to bed with me,” Clive said, his heart overflowing. Theo’s face! Oh, yes, _yes_. Theo took a breath, visibly composing himself. _I did that_ , thought Clive. 

“What about - ” Theo gestured, vaguely. Oh, yes, dinner. Port. Murdoch. Clive could not care. This was his home, and he would do as he liked. Bless Theo for thinking of it, but it was not necessary.

“It’s alright,” he replied, taking Theo’s arm, leading him to the door. “Murdoch - ” how to explain? “Murdoch’s been faithful for twenty five years. There’s little that would shock him.” Clive smiled reassuringly at Theo, reached a hand out to straighten his tie for him. “Best not scare the horses, though, eh?”

“Indeed,” Theo replied, smoothing Clive’s jacket for him. “Even so. Is it not a little early, hmm?” as they left the dining room and came to the foot of the stairs. Clive started laughing as he took the first step.

“What?” Theo asked, hand tight on Clive’s arm for support as he started up the stairs.

“Early. My god.” Clive looked behind them to check that the coast was clear. “I’ve waited thirty eight years for this,” he murmured, low “that’s hardly early.” Theo flushed at that, and quirked a smile of agreement at him.

“Ja, this is true,” he murmured back, equally low. His voice sent a thrill through Clive. They reached the top of the stairs finally, two old men, slightly out of breath. And not from arousal, as they had been only moments ago. Clive grasped Theo’s hand at that thought, pressed a quick firm kiss to his lips. Oh, the freedom to do so! Glorious. Theo smiled back at him.

“Come on,” Clive said, taking Theo’s elbow to guide him past - oh! - his own room, and into Clive’s. 

Oh, to close the door behind them and lock out the world! Clive was overcome for a moment, pausing with a palm flat against the door. Turning back he saw Theo standing still, looking around him, almost a little lost. 

“Theo?”

“Clive.” Theo turned to him, a warm smile on his face, voice low. “You know I - ” he hesitated.

“What? You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know that, my boy.” Clive’s heart thrilled at that. “I - it is as you said. Thirty eight years. We are no longer young men, mein Freund.”

True, true, of course. He felt young, though. God! Theo, here, in his bedroom. He’d shared this bed with no-one. Had always hoped - and now at last that hope was rewarded. He walked across to Theo, took his hands.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, now, Theo, now you’re here. It’s just us.” He gripped Theo’s hands, overwhelmed. “It’s _finally_ just us.”

“Clive. Always you and your great heart.” Theo smiled at him. “You are right, of course.” Theo unclasped their hands to take Clive’s face in his, to press a soft kiss to Clive’s lips. Yes. God. What was talk, but muddle? Here was the truth. Theo’s mouth, the lovely soft wet heat of it, the feel of him sure and warm. Clive kissed him fiercely, could kiss him forever, but there was more to be had. He broke the kiss, pressed his palms to Theo’s chest, felt the heart beating true and strong. 

“Come on,” he murmured, taking Theo’s lapels in his hands, “I want to see you out of these clothes.” Theo brushed Clive’s hands away, taking over. 

“Alright,” he said, taking his jacket off, “and let me see you also.” Clive flushed at that. Theo looked around, jacket in hand, hesitating, and then draped it over the back of the armchair. Clive followed suit, and then they were side by side, undressing in tandem. Like that day at the river, bathing. Theo racing to the water, the beautiful lines of him, the strong clean leanness. They were both older, their skin not as smooth, and their joints a little creaky, but what of it? They were still the same men, underneath. Clive looked at Theo, caught his smile, quickened his own fingers on his shirt cuffs. And then Theo was proffering his wrists for Clive to undo his cufflinks. Such a small thing, but it warmed Clive’s heart immensely. Clive took the cufflinks, put them on the dresser, turned back to his own buttons. What a ridiculous amount of clothes one wore! At least detachable collars were a thing of the past. He looked up from his shirt buttons to see Theo, braces around his hips, pulling his shirt over his head, laying it on the chair neatly. Oh, _god_. Clive reached out, smoothed a palm down Theo’s back, over the firm ridge of shoulder blade, the glorious stretch of warm skin. Theo looked over his shoulder, back at him. Clive grinned, unrepentant. What a sight. All his, to touch as he pleased.

“Come along, Clive,” Theo said, tugging at his shirt sleeve, “you are falling behind.”

“Is it any wonder?” Clive asked, taking his shirt off, “with you to look at?”

“Hush, Clive,” said Theo, bashful. Pleased though, thought Clive, moving over to the bed to sit down, reaching stiffly down to untie his shoelaces. Theo joined him, laughing quietly to himself.

“What?”

“Look at us. You remember before? We could not get out of our clothes fast enough. Now we have to sit down to take our shoes off.”

“True. Though this time you won’t have to hide under the bed.”

“Lucky. I would never get up again, with this leg,” he snorted softly, toeing his shoe off with the other foot. Clive was barefoot now. He paused, about to get up, ran a hand down the length of Theo’s thigh, pressed up against his own on the bed. Lovely. Theo’s hand was suddenly a warm weight on his naked back, smoothing down his spine. It sent shivers across his skin. He turned to Theo, looking at his face. God he had to kiss him, had to bring an arm round to clutch at his bare side. Theo kissed him fiercely, pulled him closer, made a noise of frustration at the awkward angle; broke the kiss, pushed himself to his feet, took Clive’s hands and hauled him up too. And then they were kissing again, Theo pulling him close, bare skin warm against his own. The feel of him, the rasp of hair against his chest, the heat of him. Clive pushed a hand into Theo’s hair, god the feel of it, the precious bones of his skull. The smooth planes of his back, his glorious warmth.  He smoothed a hand down Theo’s spine, the beautiful intricate parts of him, pressed closer, closer, felt a thrill of arousal as Theo shifted his stance and pressed a thigh hard between Clive’s own. Clive slid his hand further down Theo’s spine, into the gap between trousers and underwear. God! The smooth warm heat of Theo’s backside beneath the cotton. He wanted Theo naked, now. He felt his cock twitch, pressed harder against Theo’s firm thigh. 

“Come on,” he murmured against Theo’s mouth, tugging at Theo’s trousers, “get these off.” Theo kissed him again, a hard, brief kiss, and let go, stepped away. Clive felt the loss everywhere, but then Theo had his hands on Clive’s trousers, unfastening them. He undid them slowly, teasingly, his eyes hot and dark on Clive’s; knuckles brushing lightly against Clive’s hardening cock. Oh, god, finally, finally. Clive could stand it no longer, took Theo’s hand, pressed it hard against himself. 

“God - ” he was gasping out, “ - god, please - _Theo_ \- ” oh god, how long had he waited for this? He could wait no longer. “God, please -” and Theo was still looking at him, eyes burning, hand hot and heavy on his cock; not moving, just pressing against him. Christ he would die if he didn’t move. He was fully hard now, with Theo’s hand on him, even through his underwear. He could barely stand, could only clutch at Theo for balance, for leverage, something to move against. Theo’s gaze was fixed on him. God, he would see everything, and Clive could not care. Let him. 

“Christ, Theo, give me - ” he panted, not knowing what he wanted, knowing he only wanted more, wanted everything. Theo’s hot hand on him properly. Yes. That. He gripped Theo’s wrist, looked at him, eyes blazing.

“Please,” he ground out, “touch me properly.” He started pulling at his trousers, trying to rid himself of them. “I want - ” he faltered, as Theo moved his hand, pressing hard against his cock, making Clive tremble. “I’ve - god - thought of this - for so long -” Clive gasped out, and oh, thank god, Theo was with him, stripping his trousers down, helping him push his underwear down, his cock jumping as Theo’s hand brushed it. Clive kicked the jumble of clothing free and then Theo was hauling back the bedclothes, desperate almost, and pressing Clive down onto his back on the bed, his face fierce.

“I know -” Theo said, his voice low and hoarse, “ - I have - gott, I want - ” he paused, leaning over Clive, hands on the sheets at Clive’s shoulders, his hair falling onto his forehead. What a sight. Clive reached up, smoothed his hair back. Theo stood, suddenly, and Clive reached to stop him but he was only shedding his own trousers and underwear, and Christ! the sight of him! He was still so handsome, even if the fuzz of hair down his belly was grey, the skin mottled in places. His lovely lean lines, the strong sweep of his thigh, his lovely flushed cock; Clive could look at him forever, but Theo was back upon him, clambering onto the bed, despite his leg, straddling Clive’s thighs; the rasp of hair, the hot slide of skin, the glorious weight of him. Theo reached a hand out, cupped Clive’s face gently.

“Clive -” he murmured, “ - lieber gott, man. We are really here.” He laughed in happy disbelief. “Oh, die Dinge von denen ich geträumt habe -”1 and Clive thought he understood, laughed with him. Yes. They were here. All his dreams, and finally here they were. The joy was spilling over, Theo’s eyes blazing, his hand so gentle on Clive’s face. And then he sat back, taking his hand away, leaving Clive feeling cool air on his cheek but then - oh! - Theo was licking a broad stripe up his palm and  - Christ! - his hand, hot and sure around Clive’s cock. Oh. _God_. Clive arched into the touch, eyes closing. Theo’s voice a soft murmur of German, his other hand hot and slightly sweaty, braced on Clive’s side for balance, his backside a heavy warmth against Clive’s knees. 

Oh he’d dreamed of this, more than once, but nothing matched the reality. It was only another’s hand, really, and lord knew he’d had hands on him before but  - he opened his eyes - this was _Theo_. Theo, flushed and dishevelled, eyes dark and fond, fixed on Clive’s face. God. The feel of him, everywhere, but Christ his _hand_ , perfect, perfect. Clive was touching him without realising, one hand grasping his steadying arm, the other smoothing along Theo’s taut thigh. He wanted to touch everywhere, but Theo was undoing him with his steady rhythm, with the heat of him, the sight of him, the _sound_ of him, murmuring in German, asking him something.

“What?” Clive panted out, reaching for Theo’s face, cupping his cheek, stroking a thumb across the faint stubble there.  

“Wass?” Theo asked, distracted, not pausing his movements, sending another jolt of arousal through Clive. Christ he was close, already. 

“You’re speaking German - ” Clive struggled out, grasping now for any part of Theo, his side, warm and sweaty, his arm, taut, his thigh, god he wanted to touch everywhere, wanted hot skin up against him, wanted to roll around in him and rut against him but yet wanted nothing but Theo’s hand, firm and glorious on his cock.

“Ja?” asked Theo, as if he’d not even noticed. Oh! Clive had done that. Theo grinned then, speeding his hand a little, and Clive clutched at him, god, god, he would not survive this, and Theo was looking at him, fierce and happy, saying, “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Clive gasped, wrecked, beyond thought, Theo’s hand firm and hot on his cock, Theo’s thighs rasping against his own, god he wanted - oh - he grasped wildly at Theo, at his shoulder, pushed himself up on his good arm, anything to get closer, closer, but not lose the hot thrill of Theo’s hand on him; clasped a hand to the back of Theo’s neck, pulled him in for a kiss, oh god the feel of his mouth! The hot wet heat of his mouth, the perfect tightness of his hand, Clive was rutting into it helplessly, his arm pressed sweaty and taut against Theo’s, the blood singing in his veins, a hot visceral pull through the core of him. He broke the kiss, chest heaving, clutching at Theo; Theo pressing wet kisses to his neck, his jaw, murmuring hotly into his ear, a jumble of German, his hand firm and sure and glorious. Clive let his head drop, pressed against Theo’s shoulder, and oh, god, the sight of it, Theo’s hand, his cock, the perfect tight slickness of it and oh! - Clive was coming, shuddering hot and wet over Theo’s hand, over his own belly, gasping through it, clutching hard at Theo, Theo murmuring low into his ear still, slowing his hand. Clive fell back onto the bed, heart thundering, flushed, eyes closed, clutching weakly still at Theo’s arm; vaguely felt Theo shifting, opened his eyes again to feel Theo’s hand on his belly, smoothing through the mess there and then - oh _god_ \- slicking his own cock up with it. Clive felt an aftershock of arousal thrill through him at the sight. But no, no, he had waited so long.

“Theo -” he started, breathless. Cleared his throat, tried again, Theo’s eyes dark and hot on him. “Please - ” and he clutched at Theo’s arm, stilling his hand “please, I want to - ” he tried to sit up, failed, still wrecked. Started laughing weakly, “ - just - give me a minute -” and Theo was laughing with him, but god his eyes, his face, he looked desperate. 

“I don’t think - ” he said, gasping, rocking into his fist “ - Ich habe ein Minute - ”2  

“ _God_ \- here - ” Clive managed, grasping both Theo’s arms, trying to move him “ - come here, please, Theo - ” and somehow managing to stop him, pulling at him bodily to get them lying together, rolling until Theo was on his back, pressed hot and sweaty all up Clive’s left flank. He was lying on Clive’s bad shoulder, heavy and hot, but what did it matter?  Finally, Christ, Clive could get a hand on him, on his lovely cock.

“Oh, _Theo -_ ” he murmured, feeling with a thrill his own slickness there, tightening his hand, watching Theo’s face all the while. God what a sight! This man. He pulled Theo closer still to him, tangled their legs, sped his hand on Theo’s hot slick cock; could not help himself, bent his head to kiss Theo through his ragged breathing, oh the lovely wet heat of his mouth, the familiar brush of moustache. Theo broke the kiss, panting hard, head tilted back, eyes closed, desperate. God, his face! He was gasping out ragged sounds, clutching hard at Clive’s side, shoulder, neck, hanging on as if Clive were the only thing left in the world, the shudders running through him as Clive tightened his hand; thrusting faster, and then arching, taut, coming hot and hard over Clive’s hand, stuttering through it, chest heaving, face flushed and sweaty, beautiful, beautiful. 

He collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard, his cock still twitching in Clive’s stilled hand. Opened his eyes, smiling, reached a feeble hand up to stroke Clive’s cheek. Clive smiled back at him, turned his face to press a soft kiss into Theo’s palm. He still had a hand on Theo’s softening cock, did not want to let go. It would be tender, though. He moved his sticky hand, wiped it carelessly on the sheets, sank back down onto the bed, exhausted, sated. They lay in easy silence, breathing evening out, hearts slowing to normal. God, this was lovely, thought Clive, sleepily. And then Theo was rolling away from him, half heartedly. What? Oh, of course. Scrabbling on the bedside table for cigarettes.

“Clive. You have only one cigarette.” He sounded as if it were the end of the world. Well, yes, getting out of bed at this moment did seem rather dreadful.

“We can share,” Clive replied, with a thrill. Share everything, from now on. 

“Ja,” Theo said, striking a match. He lay back down, exhaling happily. Took another deep drag, passed the cigarette to Clive. It was a little damp from his lips. A shiver of pleasure at that thought. Once that had been as close as Clive had come. Look at them now. He took another drag, passed it back. 

“I’ve often wondered - ” he began, looking sidelong at Theo. Theo was looking back at him, sleepily quizzical through the smoke. Oh! He had seen that look before. Yes. “ - you know, back in ’02, you used to do a particular thing with cigarettes?”

“Go on,” Theo said, through the smoke.

“You’d light two, and then give one to me. You did it this evening, too. I never saw you do it with anyone else. I used to think - ” he broke off, took the cigarette back from Theo. 

“What did you think, mein Freund?” Theo asked, his voice soft and warm.

“That it meant something. Something special. Well, I hoped, I suppose. Does that make me sound like a schoolgirl?” he asked. 

“A little,” Theo said, teasing. Clive slapped at him. “But, it does not mean that you are not right.” He smiled, quirked a brow at Clive. “It is - or it used to be - shall we say, a code? Within certain circles. I had no way of knowing if the English had such a thing.” He shrugged, taking the last of the cigarette from Clive. “But, I liked doing it.” He took a final drag, twisted round to stub it out. “I liked to think of your mouth where mine had been, even if only for a second.” 

“God, _yes,_ ” Clive said, suddenly warm at the thought, “yes, me too. I wish I’d known your code!”

“Ja,” laughed Theo softly, rolling his head to face Clive “we could have had some fun, eh?”

“That we could,” Clive said, wistfully. He smoothed a hand down Theo’s belly, ran his fingers through the fuzz of hair, warm and a little sticky. What did the past matter, when he had Theo here, close in his bed, and all the time in the world. He closed his eyes, could fall asleep quite contentedly now, except for the fact that Theo was still lying on his damned arm. 

“Theo?” he murmured.

“Ja, Clive?” 

“My shoulder,” he said, regretfully. And then Theo was laughing, his whole body shaking with it. 

“It’s not that funny,” grumbled Clive, though he could not be anything but happy at the sound of Theo, the feel of him, pressed close, warm and relaxed. 

“Nein, nein,” Theo said, recovering himself. “It is only - my leg. I think I cannot move.” He turned his head to look at Clive, his face still creased in a smile. What a pair. Clive smiled back at him. 

“Here - ” he said, bringing his arm across to grasp Theo’s. He had just enough strength to pull him up a little, slide his arm out from under him, and collapse back onto the bed, rubbing at his shoulder. 

“It is alright?” asked Theo, concerned. 

“Yes, it’s fine. I just - well, if you fell asleep on it - ”

“Ja, I know.” Theo patted Clive’s belly, smoothed his hand down it, as if he could not stop touching him. Clive shivered at the feel of it. 

“You are cold, mein Freund? Where are the bedclothes?” Theo asked, as if suddenly noticing.

“You’re the one who threw them off, Theo.” Clive flushed at the memory of it.

“Ja, I was in a hurry,” Theo said, easily, a smile in his voice. “Here - ” and he sat up, looking around, rubbing his thigh absently. Clive saw for the first time the faint line of a scar there, but then, oh, what a lovely sight, the smooth curve of his spine, the dip of his neck, the soft hair at the nape all ruffled. Clive swept a hand across Theo’s warm back, down his side, glorying in the leisure of it. And then Theo was getting stiffly to his feet, padding round to the foot of the bed and dragging up the heap of bedclothes. Clive should help, really, but how lovely it was, for once, to have someone to do such things. To have Theo, here, and not just for once. He pushed himself up, reaching to help, overwhelmed with joy and happiness. Theo was clambering back into bed, and Clive hauled him close, overcome, pressing his face into Theo’s neck, pulling him near. Theo embraced him wordlessly, stroked a steady hand across his back, soothing him; pulling away finally to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Alright, now?” he asked gently, his eyes fond.

“Alright, now,” Clive replied, releasing him a little. He did not want to let go. How to do this? He couldn’t sleep on his left shoulder. Oh, yes. 

“Here - ” he said, lying back, shuffling across a little, “will you lie on this side?” he asked, patting the empty space on the other side of him. 

“Whatever you want, Clive.” And then he was straddling Clive, mischief in his eyes, brushing so very slowly across him. Oh, god, the soft brush of his cock against Clive’s, still tender; the rasp of thigh, the smooth slide of hand across his belly. Clive retaliated, stroking a firm hand over Theo’s backside, round the back of his thigh. Theo shivered, rolled onto his side on the sheets, facing Clive. Then yawned, hugely. Clive smiled at him, could not stop the yawn in response. Theo pulled the covers over them, nestling close to Clive. Clive  smoothed the hair from Theo’s forehead, kissed him gently. Theo kissed him back, warm and sleepy, lovely, brought a heavy arm round Clive’s belly. He was moments from sleep, Clive could tell. He was not far off himself. 

“Here - ” he murmured, pushing gently at Theo’s bare shoulder. “Turn over, will you?” Theo murmured sleepily, shuffled himself over without complaint. Clive reached up to switch the light off, and then snaked his arm under Theo’s neck, pulled him close, pressed his belly to Theo’s lovely spine. Theo mumbled something, pressed back, wriggling to get comfortable, the warm swell of his backside against Clive’s cock. Clive brought his knees up, nestled into Theo, pressed as close as possible all up the lines of him; pulled the covers up more firmly around them. Theo was murmuring softly, nonsense sounds; he swept a sleepy hand across Clive’s thigh, found his hand, brought Clive’s arm round to settle warm and secure on his belly. Clive stroked the sticky skin there, fingers tangled with Theo’s, safe and close in the warm dark. Meant to say something to Theo, how lovely this was, how right, like the pieces of the puzzle fitting, but Theo was heavy in his arms, asleep, and Clive was not far behind.  

 

* * * * * * *

 

Warmth. Warmth and close darkness. Clive surfaced slowly, aware of several things at once. He was too hot, sweaty, his arm had gone to sleep and he had an uncomfortably full bladder. That was what had woken him, he supposed. All the rest - that was Theo, still pressed hot against him, the damp hair at the nape of his neck brushing against Clive’s lips. He breathed it in for a moment, the warm close smell of his skin. Oh, lovely, but he really must untangle himself and go to the bathroom. Theo’s dead weight on his arm; it would be impossible to move without waking him. Clive drew his left arm slowly from under Theo’s grasp, trying to unpeel himself from Theo’s sweaty back. Theo shifted, mumbling, tightened his grip on Clive’s hand. That was lovely, but it wasn’t helping. Clive felt a momentary foolishness; a lifetime thinking about Theo had not prepared him for the mundane aspects of sharing a bed.

“Clive,” Theo mumbled, still holding his hand trapped, “geh wieder schlafen.”3 Then he stiffened in Clive’s embrace, let go of his arm and turned over. “Clive?” he said, sounding suddenly completely awake. 

“It’s alright, old man,” Clive said, trying to work some feeling back into his arm. “I just need to get up a minute and I couldn’t move without waking you.”

“Oh” Theo sank back, sounding relieved. Then he moved, somehow, and Clive pulled his arm free, rolled onto his back. Theo was a hot presence all along his side. Clive pushed himself up, made his way unerringly in the dark to the door, took down his dressing gown. The silk was cold against his skin, sending shivers through him. He unlocked the door, padded slowly out onto the landing where a small lamp was still lit. Lord alone knew what time it was, but the house was asleep. The bathroom tiles were icy under his feet. He’d been so warm in bed he’d forgotten it was winter. That was Theo! How grand it was to have another warm body in bed with him on a cold night. Not like in summer. How well he remembered nights lying sweating above the covers in Calcutta or Khartoum, the heat of another body too much, afterwards. He scratched at his belly, the itch of the dried mess there, took a moment to clean himself up. He shivered at the cold, hurried back to his room. The dim light from the landing was enough to illuminate Theo, sitting up in bed - oh! in Clive’s bed - scratching a hand through his hair sleepily. He looked up at Clive’s return, smiling.

“My turn now - where - ?”

“Two doors down on the left. Here - ” Clive said as Theo got stiffly to his feet, “ - take my dressing gown.” Theo slipped it on, tied it loosely. Clive could not help himself, had to smooth a hand down the warm silk of his arm as he passed. Lovely. He climbed back into the bed, huddling the covers around him, still gloriously warm from Theo’s body, smelling of him, of them both. Theo was soon back, pausing silhouetted in the doorway.

“Will you put a light on, Clive? I may cripple myself in the dark.”

Clive switched on the bedside lamp, glad for once of its poor light, still bright enough after the dark of the room. Theo closed the door, hung up Clive’s dressing gown, padded back over to the bed. What a thing to see in the soft glow of the lamp! Theo scrambled under the covers, shivering; tangled his legs up with Clive’s, pressed a cold foot to Clive’s calf. Clive yelped, retaliated, although he had warmed up a little. 

“Your bathroom floor, Clive. It is like an iceberg.” 

“Yes, I know. That’s the problem with this old house, too big to heat,” he said, settling more comfortably on his back, Theo curled against him. “Even worse now with fuel so scarce. Have to bear it.”  

“Well, we have borne worse. It is a good argument for staying in bed, hmm?” He was stroking a hand over Clive’s belly, down his side, along his thigh. Lovely. 

“It is that,” Clive replied. He would happily stay in bed for a month like this, if he could. Waking up with Theo in his arms - good god, it was real, it was _real_. And Theo -

“Theo, can I ask you?” he murmured, tentatively.

“You can ask, certainly. What is it?”

“When I woke you up.” Was it right, to talk of such things? But surely they could talk of anything, now. “You were a little - ” he paused as Theo snorted a small laugh.  

“Yes, Clive. A little startled, eh?” He shifted, wriggled closer, his head pressed heavy to Clive’s chest, his fingers teasing the sparse hair there. Clive brought a hand up, stroked his hair, smoothed the ruffled hairs at his nape. Theo breathed out a small sigh.

“I thought I was dreaming again,” he murmured, almost too low to be heard. “That I had given myself away in my sleep. And then I realised that it was really you.” He huffed out a small embarrassed laugh. Clive’s heart swelled at that, and he pulled Theo closer, overcome. 

“I had those dreams too,” he murmured. “Sometimes I’d have silly little dreams, nonsense ones, with you in them. But occasionally - ” he drifted off, remembering.

“Ja?” prompted Theo.

“Well I would dream that we were together. Like last night. And then I’d wake up, in an empty bed.”

“Oh, Clive,” Theo said quietly, stroking his chest.

“It’s alright,” Clive reassured him, stroking Theo’s warm shoulder. “You’re here now. And well - this may sound a little daft - ”

“Go on.” 

“Well, I would have a lovely feeling of you being near, all through the day. Fanciful, I know.” 

“Nein, Clive. I understand. I have felt that too.” He lifted his head, craned his neck to look at Clive. “I was a better man, some days, because of it,” he smiled, his eyes fond. “Although - ” he laid his head on Clive’s chest again, his voice low, “some days it was very difficult.”

“Yes,” Clive murmured, “yes I know.”

“I think perhaps you only know some of it, Clive. Some days when I woke and it was not you, but Edith - well - ” he tailed off, sighed quietly. Clive could not see his face, only the tangle of his hair, the fine curve of his ear. He was right, though. Clive could not imagine. He stroked Theo’s hair, smoothed a hand across his shoulder, trying to comfort. Theo breathed another sigh, tightened his arm across Clive’s belly for a moment. Then scrubbed a hand through his hair, pushed it out of his face. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Clive replied. “Everything is alright now, now we’re here.” He brought his left arm round Theo, stroked down his side, over the lovely soft swell of his backside, What a gift this was. What an absolute delight. He was lucky, really. They both were. All these years, anything could have happened. Who knew what dangers Theo had been in since they’d last met? Theo shifted, slid his leg further across Clive’s legs, his cock nestled softly against Clive’s thigh. Clive could not stop stroking the soft skin of his backside, the lovely stretch of his leg, feeling the hairs rasp against his palm, the faint ridge of the scar. How close had he come to losing him? 

“How did you get this?” he asked lightly. Theo might not want to talk about it. But he knew Clive, knew he would not make a fuss.

“Oh - the War,” Theo said. “Just before we were captured. Shrapnel. You know what it was like.” His voice was quiet, matter of fact. 

“Yes.”

“They patched me up, but they could not get it all out. But - what was a bit of tin, when boys were getting cut to pieces all around me?”

What indeed, thought Clive. Still, he’d been lucky.

“I was pretty bad, for a while, at the camp,” Theo continued, as if reading his mind. “Infection, I think. And your English climate,” he snorted softly. “But, it has been no trouble for years, except in the cold. You know.” 

“Mmm,” Clive agreed, thinking of his shoulder. How long ago it all was, as if it had happened to someone else.

“And now?” he asked, still not wanting to pry too much.

“Oh, you know, Clive. These things, they get worse. It is just the way,” he said, dismissively. True, thought Clive. You would not know it, though, to look at Theo now. The firmness of his thigh against Clive’s, the strong line of his spine. The scar was hardly noticeable under his fingertips, just a smooth patch of skin where the hair was missing. Theo had been lucky, just like Clive. Clive squeezed the warm thigh, grateful beyond words for Theo; warm, healthy, alive; in his bed, at last. 

“Clive,” Theo said, quietly, shifting even closer, stroking a hand down Clive’s arm to his hand, tangling their fingers together, squeezing briefly, resting their linked hands on his own thigh. 

“Yes?”

“I must say something.”

“Alright,” Clive said, though his stomach lurched, fearful. 

“And you must listen, and not interrupt,” Theo said, squeezing Clive’s hand for emphasis. 

“Would I?”

“You cannot help yourself. But this is difficult for me.”

“Go on then, I’m all ears.”

“Clive!” Theo breathed, exasperated. “Very well,” he said, more calmly. “It is only that I want to apologise - no - Clive, let me speak. I told you, last week, that I had been in England for four years. This is true. I was not thinking, really, how it would sound. I was only happy to see you.” He raised his head briefly, smiled softly at Clive, then lay back down. “I hurt you, I think. You have been wondering why I did not come to see you. Ja?” he pressed Clive’s hand briefly. 

“Yes.” Clive admitted in a small voice. “But - ”

“No, Clive. Let me tell you. I wanted to. But - ” he sighed, “ - it has been an unhappy time for me. Since Edith died. Well - I had no longer any reason to stay in Germany. My sons - ” he paused, breathing unsteadily. “I could not bear to watch what was happening to my country. It was more dangerous by the day. I had a friend in Paris, a chance of a job, so I went to Paris. It was fine for a while. And then - ” he shrugged, dismissively, “ - then I came to England.” He stopped, and Clive tried not to breathe too loudly. “I had a notion I was doing it for Edith. But of course I hoped I would find you. I thought I would be able to get a job, and fix myself up a little, and come to see you.”

“But why didn’t you, Theo?” Clive could not help but ask. “All this time?” he said, failing to keep his dismay hidden. Theo was silent for a long moment, and Clive feared he had said too much.

“You don’t know what humiliation can do to a man, Clive.” Theo said, quietly. “You have always had your career, your purpose. You have never been down on your luck. The army never meant as much to me, you know. And I could turn my hand to anything.” He sighed. “But now I am an old man, in a foreign country. I kept trying. I could not bear to turn up at your door like a beggar.”

“Theo, I would never have thought that.”

“I know, Clive, I know. But - when things are bad, it is hard to think that people are still good. And - ” “Yes?” Clive breathed.

“I am ashamed to say - I could not bear to come here and find you and your wife, happy. You might not have wanted me anymore.”

“Theo!”

“I know, Clive. How foolish it sounds, now. And, I am sorry about Barbara, mein Freund. If I had known - ” he squeezed Clive’s hand.

“I should have told you,” Clive said, regretfully. 

“We both should have done things that we did not, Clive. Do not blame yourself.”

“Well you shouldn’t, either. It’s forgotten. I’m - ” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “ - I’m glad you told me, though. I fear I was thinking all sorts of things.”   

“I am truly sorry, Clive,” Theo murmured, raising his head again to look at Clive. 

“I know, old thing,” Clive replied, smiling at him. “Come here,” he said, stroking a hand up Theo’s arm. Theo shifted up a little, his thigh brushing against Clive’s cock, and met his kiss, soft and tender. Oh, enough talk, enough, when there was this instead. Clive shifted, rolled onto his side, pressing up against Theo, chest and belly, Theo’s leg heavy across his thigh; kissed him lazily, the lovely wet heat of his mouth; Theo’s hand hot on his back, smoothing down to his backside, sending a thrill through him. He stroked a hand down Theo’s thigh, rolled them over more until Theo was on his back and Clive was pressed against him from chest to knee, still kissing him, feeling the brush of moustache and the lovely heat of his tongue.  He could feel the scratch of hair, Theo’s cock soft against his own, could not help but smile at the thought. 

“Wass?” Theo murmured against his mouth, kissing him softly.

“Just - ” Clive pulled away a little, looked at Theo, at his fond dark eyes. “I don’t think I’m up to much,” he smiled, pressing his soft cock against Theo’s to make his point.

“Up to much? Is this your terrible English humour?” Theo murmured, “But yes, I fear I am the same. Those days are behind us, mein Freund.” He pulled Clive close again, kissed him deeply, sending a thrill of arousal through him despite his words. This was enough, this lovely lazy moment. Theo’s warm skin, everywhere,  the smell of his sweat, the  feel of his mouth; his strong hands on Clive’s back, sweeping down to rest hot and heavy on his backside. Clive shifted his leg across Theo’s, pressed closer, wanted more, somehow, wanted Theo’s hands everywhere. Theo was still kissing him, still stroking firmly over his backside, lovely, sending a shiver all down his spine. Theo stroked a hand up the back of his thigh, drifted fingers lightly between his buttocks. His cock twitched a little against Theo's at the feel of it. Oh! that was lovely. He pressed back a little into Theo’s fingers, and Theo stroked again, light and teasing. Theo broke the kiss, pulled back a little, looked at Clive. 

“Have you ever - ?” he murmured, eyes dark.

“No,” Clive replied, feeling the flush creeping up his neck. “I - no. You?”

“Ja,” Theo said, quietly, and Clive’s stomach lurched at the thought. He had no right to be jealous. But still. Theo smiled, as if he knew Clive’s thoughts. “I had a boyfriend once - ” he continued, fingers still stroking, teasing,  “ - we used to - I used to fuck him - ” and oh God, Clive’s cock jumped at that, at Theo saying it, at the image of it. Theo laughed, warmly, and Clive could not squash the dark curl of possessiveness that ran through him.

“He liked it, a lot,” Theo continued, eyes glittering in the dim light, “ - and so, we never - I liked it too,  a lot, so we did not - how would you say it? Switch?”

“Yes,” Clive muttered, annoyed with himself for being so affected by it. Theo was here, with him now, warm and content in his arms. It should not matter. 

“Clive, Clive - ” Theo murmured, amused. Damn him. “It was another life, long before I met you.” He drifted his fingers up the bumps of Clive’s spine, pressed his warm hand flat against Clive’s shoulderblade and pulled him close to kiss him softly. Clive kissed him, pressed himself closer still, wanting to bury himself in Theo’s warm skin, wanting to gather him up and keep him, always. He broke the kiss and rested his head on Theo’s shoulder, arm firm and tight across his chest. 

“Yes, lieber, it was a long time before I met you,” Theo continued, his voice quiet and reflective. “Before I even imagined I could ever meet someone like you.”

“Like me?” Clive asked, “What do you mean? A soldier?” Perhaps this boyfriend was - he did not quite know what. 

“No,” Theo said, huffing out a quiet laugh. “No, Sasha was a soldier. Russian. But an artist too. A good one.”

“Oh,” Clive murmured, feeling foolish.

“It was only a brief affair. We were young. It was - joyful, ja? No - _Herzschmertz_. Heartbreak, ja? But never meant to last. You know.”

Clive grunted, aware yet again of how little he’d lived. He’d had friendships, intimate friendships, but never - never someone one could call a _boyfriend_. Theo nudged him, and he realised he’d been lost in thought.

“Are you jealous, Clive?” he teased.

“Yes. Terribly,” Clive said gruffly, and Theo laughed, pleased.

“But what were you doing back in - oh, ’95? You had your own dalliances, surely?” Theo asked, smoothing his hand across Clive’s back, along his side.

“’95? I was twenty. I’d not long joined the army.”

“And were you even more handsome, Clive, at twenty, than when I met you?”

“Theo - ” Clive murmured, ridiculously flattered.

“You know,” Theo said, his voice thoughtful, his hand warm and sure on Clive’s skin, “when I heard that I must duel with an English officer, one who had insulted the German army, I imagined a red-faced silly fool, with no chin and an ugly moustache. And no skill with a sabre.” He laughed, sounding amused at his own words. “And instead there was _you,”_ he continued, hugging Clive’s side for a moment, “with your broad chest, and your beautiful red hair, and your English tweed trousers!” He turned his head to look at Clive, eyes bright, “And you _smiled_ at me!” He thumped Clive good-naturedly on the back. “You were so - _verwirrend._ Confusing.” 

Clive looked at him, at his handsome face, and his bright eyes, and could not help but smile at this curious, flattering picture of himself. 

“And then - ” Theo continued, still smiling, “ - you were _good_. Do you know how much a German soldier prides himself on his duelling?”

“Yes,” Clive said, almost hot with embarrassment and joy. “People told me. Repeatedly.”

“And _then_ \- ” and dear lord, there was more? Clive could not hear more. Yet of course he could. It was delicious, even if it was ridiculous. 

“ _Then_ , _”_ Theo carried on, “I discover that not only are you handsome, and good with a sabre, but - oh, Clive - your great heart - ” he broke off, brought his hand up to Clive’s chest, palm hot against Clive’s thumping heart.

“Theo - ” Clive demurred.

“How could I help it, Clive?” Theo said, softly, smoothing across Clive’s chest, “How could I not fall in love with you?”

“Oh, god, Theo - ” Clive said, overwhelmed, tugging him close, hugging him tightly. “Me too,” he murmured into Theo’s ear, “me too, Theo. How - you - ” he could not finish, could not find the words to say how it had been, how it was as inevitable as day following night. 

“Ja, lieber,” Theo said, softly, “this is what I am meaning. I never thought - I never could imagine that I would find someone like you. That I would find _you_. Someone who - Clive, you know. Someone who I would _belong_ to.”

“Theo - ” Clive said, pulling Theo tighter still against him, feeling the thud of his precious heart, the thrum of his pulse in his neck. 

“I never wanted, before - ” Theo said, low and rough, “ - but I have thought of it,with you. I was not sure - ” he turned his head away, so that Clive could only see the tilt of his chin, and the flush creeping up his neck.

“What, Theo?” Clive whispered. 

“I was not sure what you knew. If you thought of it, if you’d ever - ” he paused, turned back to Clive, suddenly fierce, “I want to, you know. One day. I want you to - ” he halted again, blushing deeper “ - I want you to fuck me, Clive. If you want to.”

If he wanted to! Clive had to kiss him, hard and hot, at the thought. God, he wanted to! He’d barely thought of it, but there was a dark thrill through him now, imagining it. Theo was kissing him desperately, a hand firm at his neck, pressing up into him. Clive was half hard at the thought of it, felt Theo’s cock firmer against his own. He broke the kiss, breathing unsteadily. 

“God, Theo,” he said, collapsing down onto him, his head resting against the ridge of Theo’s collarbone. Theo was stroking a hand down his arm, over his back, touching wherever he could. “You’ll kill me before we ever get there.” He huffed out a breath, calmed himself a little, smoothed a hand up Theo’s side, onto his chest, stroked his fingers gently over the hair there, felt the nipple harden under his touch. Theo breathed out, unsteadily. 

“I want - ” Clive started, then paused, wishing he were as brave as Theo.

“Go on,” Theo murmured. 

“I’ve not done much, not really,” Clive said, quietly, stroking Theo’s chest, “but I want - I want everything, with you. Anything and everything - ” how to say it? “ - _equally_.  I want us to share everything.” He stopped, heart pounding. Never had he spoken such things aloud before. 

“Ja, _yes,_ ” Theo replied hotly, pulling Clive back up to kiss him, “anything and everything, Clive,” he murmured against his mouth, kissing him again. Clive sank into it, into the softness of his lips, the lovely feel of his tongue, a happy warmth spreading all through him at their words. Anything and everything, that was something to swear! He pressed a last soft kiss to Theo’s lips, rested his head against his chest again, heart calming. Theo smoothed a palm over Clive’s shoulder and then yawned unexpectedly. Clive snorted a laugh, yawned with him. 

“Not just now, though, hey?” Clive said, smiling. 

“Perhaps not.” Theo yawned again. “What time must you wake in the morning?” he asked, shifting. Looking at the alarm clock, Clive realised.  

“I don’t have to,” he replied, happily. “Two days R&R. I forgot to say, I was so pleased to see you.”

“Oh, well, that is excellent news. Will we be in trouble if we do not get up?”

Clive laughed at that, pictured Murdoch’s face. Best not annoy him too much. 

“Well, I think I can justify a late breakfast, at least,” Clive said, smiling. “I often do, these days. Murdoch will realise. We can take our time.” Oh! That was a lovely thought.

“I will be happy to take my time with you, Clive.” Theo murmured. Clive flushed at that. Oh the pictures that painted! He hugged Theo close for a moment, thrilled, then yawned again. 

“Come on,” Theo laughed, gently, “it is time for sleep, I think. You will need your energy for the morning.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Clive replied, warmly. Oh, he was sleepy now. “Are you alright like this?” he murmured, not wanting to move. “Your leg?”

“I’m fine, Clive. I’ll push you off if I need to,” he said, teasing. Clive wriggled closer, settling down, felt Theo reach out to turn the lamp off. He closed his eyes, felt Theo drawing the covers close around them, warm and content, heard him murmur something in German, felt a soft hand stroke over his hair, his shoulder, come to rest warm on his arm, holding him close. Lovely, he thought, sleepily, half murmured it to Theo as he listened to Theo’s heartbeat steady and true beneath his head, settling into a rhythm, matching his own. 

 

* * *

 

Footnotes:

  
1"Oh, the things I've dreamed of - "

  
2" - I have a minute - "

  
3 " - go back to sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long road _finally_ getting the boys here, and I was helped immeasurably along the way by **jennytheshipper** and her dedicated beta work, as well as endless relevant and not-relevant discussions. And also by **tea-with-theo** ; German teacher, fellow Anton-flailer, inventor of Sasha, and just as obsessed with Theo's tastes in everything artistic as me. 
> 
> This is in no way the end of the journey, but I'm so happy they are finally here. From here on in it's mostly more smut. :D
> 
> Massive thanks also to Boris Lermontov and his obscene ways with sugarcubes, which was part of the inspiration for this story. 
> 
> On Theo's Alien status: Emeric is typically elliptical. The tribunal discussion suggests he would be rated either A (high security risk) or B (doubtful case) which would mean internment (for A) or restrictions (for B). It seems as though he is classed B, but there is always the risk of that changing. I decided that it would be possible for Clive - as a General - to not only stand as surety, but by moving Theo to live with him, it would mean a downgrading to C (no security risk) and therefore no restrictions. There is a brief discussion later in the film - between Johnny and Theo - which is ambiguous, but I believe is to do with Theo trying to find a job, and nothing to do with his Alien categorisation. Clive - the man who organised a charity ball just to find Barbara, and admitted it to her family and the vicar - would not think it untoward to use his name to get Theo downgraded. For the best of reasons, of course. There is good info [here.](http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/timeline/factfiles/nonflash/a6651858.shtml)
> 
> Also, in a note attached to the original script (in the BFI library) Emeric discusses the idea of where Clive would be, at the start of the War, as he was put back on the Active List. He decides it's probable that he would have a fairly safe, quiet command, somewhere in Northern France. I have gone with this, and so - although he can get home fairly quickly - there are still obstacles to complete domestic bliss. Hey, blame Pressburger!


End file.
